A Conspiracy of Wolves
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: Owen Archer #11
- Год: 2019
- Язык: английский
- Год: Severn House Publishers
- ISBN: 978-1-4483-0224-6
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Conspiracy of Wolves». Краткое содержание книги:
When a prominent citizen is murdered, former Captain of the Guard Owen Archer is persuaded out of retirement to investigate in this gripping medieval mystery.
1374. When a member of one of York’s most prominent families is found dead in the woods, his throat torn out, rumours spread like wildfire that wolves are running loose throughout the city. Persuaded to investigate by the victim’s father, Owen Archer is convinced that a human killer is responsible. But before he can gather sufficient evidence to prove his case, a second body is discovered, stabbed to death. Is there a connection? What secrets are contained within the victim’s household? And what does apprentice healer Alisoun know that she’s not telling?
Teaming up with Geoffrey Chaucer, who is in York on a secret mission on behalf of Prince Edward, Owen’s enquiries will draw him headlong into a deadly conspiracy.
As he spoke, the woman sat up, moving with a fluid, studied grace. She was not young, but no less beautiful for the years. Though no stranger to the delights of brothels, he’d never been one to patronize those in York, for he’d lost his heart to Lucie Wilton on his first day in the city. Yet something about the woman was familiar.
‘Alas, Captain, I cannot help you. But there were whispers about a wolf entering a house nearby a few nights past. A search the next morning came up with nothing. A man and his dog are nothing of note in ordinary times, but at present – no one is at ease with such apparitions since dear Bartolf was taken from us.’
The affection with which she spoke the coroner’s name interested Owen. ‘Was Bartolf a client?’
‘Oh, we all knew the dear old man and competed for his coin – he spent freely here. He’d quite an appetite for a man his age.’ A dimple appeared as the smile brightened her lovely face. ‘Now for you, Captain … I know several of my compeers would forgo payment to lie with you.’
He felt his face redden. Her sinuous movements, the scent, her voice …
‘I did not know that about Bartolf.’
A chuckle. ‘Then you did not know him well. I can see that your mind is on your work – but the offer stands, Captain. Here, let me point out the house to you.’ As she passed she caught his hand, drew him to the doorway, leaning her head against his shoulder as she pointed to a modest structure a few doors down and across the alleyway.
He was not as immune to her charms as he’d thought. Stepping away from her he forced himself to focus. ‘Do you know the owner of the property?’
‘Alas no, but I might inquire for you.’ She placed a cool hand on the back of his neck.
He took the hand, kissed it, and gave her his most charming smile. ‘I would be grateful.’
‘Grateful!’ A throaty chuckle, her smile teasing. ‘Worry not. I know you are devoted to your apothecary wife, and I am glad for her. And for you. Lucie Wilton is wise, competent, and beautiful. But my offer holds. Come round in a day, and I hope to have a name for you, at the least.’
‘I’d like to hear more about Bartolf as well.’
A nod. ‘I am more than happy to spend more time in your company, Captain. I promise I’ll keep my distance. You know you can trust me – or do you not recognize me out of the garb of a lay sister of St Leonard’s?’
The moment she reminded him, he remembered. Honoria de Staines. She’d been a good friend to Bess Merchet’s late uncle, and, yes, a lay sister at St Leonard’s Hospital. But there had been secrets in her past …
‘Dame Honoria, of course.’
She smiled and gathered her skirts, about to withdraw to her seat, when she held up a hand. ‘I have remembered something I overheard. It is several weeks now. Otto and Rat – yes,’ she laughed, ‘he looks like one. The two of them are unlikely sorts to grace my house, but they did, showing me they had good coin. When they were in their cups and ready to ascend to the bedchambers they spoke between them of a young woman murdered a long while ago, Gerta, the daughter of a charcoal-burner in Galtres. Their money had to do with that in some way. I thought it odd, so I made a point of remembering it.’
‘And now I benefit. I am most grateful.’
She kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to his cheek. ‘I am repaid by bringing out that dimple. May God watch over you, Captain.’
Stepping out into the alleyway, Owen took a deep breath.
‘Captain?’ George Hempe strode toward him from the direction of St Andrewgate, frowning. ‘A bawdy house?’
‘Looking for witnesses,’ Owen assured him. ‘You’ve heard of the attack at Poole’s?’
‘Man and wolf fleeing here,’ Hempe glanced round, ‘where I’ve no jurisdiction. Nor have you. Though if Thoresby were alive–’
‘–I would be free to chase them down in here, yes, I’ve thought of that. But he’s not. Still, I know of no law against asking whether a man and a dog passed by, and where they went, and we will continue to ask so that folk know it’s not safe to hide them here, for in time we could convince the dean to allow us to take them.’
They both turned as Geoffrey Chaucer hailed them. ‘God’s blood, I’ve run the gauntlet only to find you so close to hand. Lucie sent me, to tell you all that we have discovered, and that the Riverwoman is at Poole’s.’
Magda was here. God be thanked. ‘But not Poole? He’s not returned?’
‘No.’
‘Let me set some of my men to walking the Bedern while we hie to the Poole home,’ said Hempe. ‘They say Alisoun Ffulford shot one of the two men, but you’ve not seen him, have you, Owen? It needs your eyes.’
‘I have. No one I know. A woman saw them come this way. The man she described – he could be Galbot, Paul Braithwaite’s man. And a man and a wolf were rumored to have been seen entering a house down the way a few nights ago.’
‘Let my man check it, the one who’s watching this alley on your orders.’ Hempe grinned. ‘He’s glad to have you as captain.’
Geoffrey made a rude sound.
‘First to Gisburne’s on Micklegate,’ said Owen. ‘Walk with me a way, Geoffrey. Tell me all you know.’
‘I should accompany you – and bring some of my men,’ said Hempe.
Owen agreed.
Once Geoffrey had told them all he knew, Owen sent him off on a mission. First to Brother Michaelo, to ask him to walk through the minster yard, in case there was talk of a man and a dog, or, even better, a sighting. Then to the Swann home, to tell Muriel, Olyf, and the Braithwaites all he knew, and see whether Ned needed assistance. And then to Owen’s home, to bide there a while, have an ale, tell Jasper all that he’d seen and heard so far. The lad would never admit it, but Owen thought he would be grateful to have another man in the house for a time. Geoffrey had begun to protest, but Owen had not been too proud to beg, winning his agreement.
‘A stranger comes to the city with a hound and a friend to attack a blind widow,’ Owen said to Hempe.
‘You make him a riddle,’ said Hempe. ‘I’d say he was hired for the job.’
11
An Old Enemy
Owen’s height, patch, and reputation preempted any plan to slip through the city unnoted. Folk called out to him, asking about the attack at Poole’s home. Word had spread quickly, but the city was haunted by the deaths, the specter of great wolves prowling the streets. Owen envied Hempe. Though he’d served as bailiff for years, he was the sort of man who could move through a crowd unremarked, vaguely familiar, unthreatening. Except, of course, for those he’d arrested. One of those skittered away from them near St Crux, sliding into the shadows, but Hempe had his men drag him out.
‘Brown-haired man in a leather jerkin in the company of a large hound. You see anyone like that, you find one of my men as quick as you may and I’ll overlook your latest theft.’
‘The purse? But there were naught in it, Master Bailiff.’
‘Leave it on her doorstep and I’ll forget about it – if you keep an eye out.’
A vigorous nod and the man loped away.
‘He’s simple, but he has an eye. The purse was valuable in itself. And he never wastes his time on those with nothing of value. He knows everyone’s worth in the city.’
‘You should hire him.’
‘I would, but he disappears. He’s plagued by fits. The Riverwoman puts a few drafts in him, gives him a cot while he sleeps it out, and he’s back on the streets, bright and keen as ever.’
‘The city depends on her for a great deal.’
‘And you. Even in death you will be revered – your corpse will work miracles, mark me.’ Hempe laughed.
By the time they reached the Ouse Bridge Owen no longer heard the questions about the attack, his mind on Gisburne, how to handle him. The man was slippery as an eel, powerful in the city and the shire, rotten to the core. That his fellow merchants and city counselors overlooked his criminal dealings confounded Owen. Lucie believed they feared what he knew of them, for his men spied on all in the city. What might he have to gain in aiding the attacks on the Swanns and their friends? Did he hope to take on the role of coroner? Surely his calls to parliament already gave him more power than would the post of coroner in Galtres. Perhaps a favor for a friend?